


Stand In

by moneyofthemind



Category: Five Nights at Freddy's
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-16
Updated: 2016-02-16
Packaged: 2018-05-20 23:41:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6030148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moneyofthemind/pseuds/moneyofthemind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mike can't take a day off.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stand In

“Okay, o-okay. I got this. 4 am, almost there. O-only two more hours…” The boy sat there shivering, the thick leather of the old spinning chair sticking to his back as he glanced nervously at the doors beside him.

A sudden gasp pulled it’s way from his chest as he glanced at the nearby tablet to be met with the malicious grin of a rabbit. It’s face was up close to the camera, pitch black eyes glittering with evil as it watched the boy at his post.

“N-no, no no no!” He panicked. He smashed the door buttons on both sides, slamming down the thick steel barriers, the yellow tape at the top a beacon to all those who came near.

The boy collapsed in his chair and he sat there shivering, a blank look in his eyes as he watched his power supply dwindle, the effort of keeping the doors shut pulling power from his small battery. “I-I can’t. I can’t….” Sobs wracked his body as the time ticked on, deep groans from outside his door meeting each cry of pure fear. Suddenly there was a sharp banging on the outside of the door. A muffled shout, “Open the door! Hurry up!”

He gaped in shock at the voice, then pulled from his shaded spell, he reached forward and slammed his hand into the door button, the thick steel sliding up sleekly.

_____________________________________________

Mike swore as he slammed on the gas once more, his car shooting up the street, now barren of other people at this time of night. The bags beneath his eyes were pitch black, resulting from his recent lack of sleep.

A new job will do that to a guy.

He pulled the wheel to the left, his old truck banging it’s bumper on the curb. With another shout he pulled into the Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza parking lot. He threw himself out of his car with a grumble, shooting a venomous look up to the smiling bear on the sign, he snatched his keys out of his pocket.

With shaking hands he shoved them into the door lock, and turned them, throwing open the glass doors, and running in. He slowed down as he walked down the pitch dark hallway, keeping his steps quiet. This was a death wish, and he knew it, but what did he have to lose?

He passed by the restrooms, and turned to watch it for a few seconds, but made quick steps away when he heard thick mechanical whirring from within.

He was feet away from the turn that would take him to the security office when he saw the glowing eyes. From in front of him came heavy metallic footsteps, and stepping into the feeble light of a nearby security camera, was Chica. Her beak was opened wide and her eyes blown open. Her dead eyes took in Mike’s form, and she began to step towards him.

Unwilling to wait for her to come to him, Mike pulled his company-issued taser from his back pocket, and jogged up to the robot. Dodging a surprisingly quick swipe from the robot, and shoved the crackling taser into the robot’s back.

With a start the chicken stopped dead, then collapsed onto the tiles, an occasional twitch flickering through its limbs.

With a sharp sneer, Mike sprinted on through the hall. He heard the grinding of metal rebooting behind him. Knowing his time was running short, he sprinted faster.

Turning the corner he saw the shining yellow of the hazard strips of the doors. He quickly approached, the footsteps growing ever closer, and slammed his fists on the metal. “Open the door!” the footsteps got louder, “Hurry up!”

He stumbled back as the door slid upwards, the yellow hazard tape sucked away. He threw himself in the doorway, and slammed the door button, watching smugly as the approaching chicken’s beak was blocked away.

Allowing himself a moment to breathe, he turned at the sound of a small voice, “W-who are you?” Turning he brushed himself off, then paused as he took in the appearance of the boy. His face was tear-streaked, face puffy from crying. Mike sighed, “You’re the stand-in I assume?”

With a soft nod the boy sniffled once more. “Well, I’m the official employee. Sorry about the sick day, I kind of assumed they’d let the building go empty for a couple nights while I was away, but, apparently that’s too much to ask for.”

He pulled the boy up by his arm and pulled him to the back of the office. He pulled the chair along with them and sat the boy down in the chair once more. “You stay here. I’ll finish up the shift.” The boy stuttered out a reply, “B-but, th-the power is a-almost gone!” Mike frowned and stepped back over to the tablet.

4:30 am

25% power

“What were you doing in here? Making Hot-pockets?!” Mike said, He turned back to the boy and sighed, waving his hands. “Just… sit there. I’ll finish up alright? You can head home after 6.” The boy shook his head, “Why can’t I go now?”

Mike snorted as he lifted up both doors. “You wanna fight a giant robot chicken? Be my guest.” Not another sound escaped the teenager.

“Alright, alright. Positions.” He quickly hit the lights on both doors, ensuring they were vacant, before lifting up the tablet. Chica, in the kitchen. Freddy, still in the bathrooms. Bonnie had returned to the stage, and Foxy was poking his rusted old snout out from behind the curtains.

Mike let his mind run blank, relying on muscle memory as he flipped from tablet, to door, then back to the tablet. Chica reappeared and loomed menacingly in the door, but Mike didn’t spare a glance, simply slamming down on the button.

5:30 am

Suddenly, Mike’s vision went fuzzy and he stumbled back. He gripped his head and lifted the tablet, zooming in on one of the hallways. The poster had changed. He gulped but refused to move the tablet from his eyes when he heard a faint buzzing.

“Close your eyes kid!”

“Why?!”

“Just do it!”

He quickly flipped down the tablet. A familiar yellow bear was slumped down by the desk. It’s eyes leaking blood, it made low moaning noises.

Mike ripped the tablet back up to his eyes. He studied the halls while he waited for the buzzing to subside. Chica, hall. Foxy, curtain. Freddy, hall. Bonnie, stage.

A loud ding made him drop the tablet, a gasp of relief pulling from his chest. He put down the tablet as he watched the power levels rocket back up to 100. He turned to the teen, who was balled up in the chair, eyes squeezed shut.

“You can open your eyes now. It’s 6. Go ahead and head out.” The kid opened his eyes slowly and nodded weakly, pulling himself to his feet. The first few steps were wobbly, but he broke into a sprint at the doorway, and Mike watched on the cameras as the teenager threw himself out the glass doors, sobbing once more.

He collapsed in a chair with a loud sigh, hands covering his face.

He’s never taking another sick day.


End file.
